


Letters

by Fabrisse



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Harry's dead, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after leaving for Kentucky, letters arrive from Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SmartKIN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartKIN/gifts).



> Inspired by [lloydoholic's tumblr meta](http://lloydoholic.tumblr.com/post/119955523254/harry-hart-sore-loser) about Harry's anger coming from being a sore loser to Chester re: Eggsy's and his father's suitability for Kingsman.
> 
>  **Not part of Rebuilding the Table** (but I like that name for Merlin)

When he gets back from a post V-Day diplomatic mission in New Zealand, he heads straight for the care unit to get checked out. He doesn't see anyone other than the doctor and he's just tired. Four Kingsmen were left besides Roxy, and they voted Eggsy to the table. Since the names all need to begin with a different letter, G was now free. He could have taken Galahad, but that will always be Harry to him. He discreetly sent a text to Roxy and Merlin and they both suggested the same name: Gareth. He smiled at the others and said "Gareth" aloud. The others had approved immediately.

Eggsy greets Caradoc and Bedivere in the billiard room, once he's been cleared by medical. He'll have a meal and a drink here tonight; probably sleep in his designated room before heading back to the city or -- God forbid! -- a new assignment. 

Dinner is in the dining room and several department heads, including all three witches, and Merlin join him, Caradoc, Bedivere, and Roxy. The table can seat thirty, so they only stretch halfway up it. The fire is crackling; the spring has been cold and slow to ease toward summer. The meal is simple by Kingsman standards, cauliflower soup, trout almandine with asparagus and new potatoes, a green salad, and fruit with cream or custard for dessert. He'd taken a risk once, told Roxy and Merlin exactly how poor he'd been, how desperate. Neither of them judged him, not like Harry had, and both of them offered to help Michelle learn (or re-learn) how to cook healthy meals. He knew it sounded strange, but he could feel the nourishment taking hold as he ate. He was that glad Daisy wouldn't remember poverty.

Afterward, Merlin calls him into the old smoking room. It's the same room where Chester told him to shoot JB. Merlin knows the story and always lets Eggsy sit to the left of the fireplace so he won't be in the same space. 

"Do you want Scotch, brandy, or an eau-de-vie?" Merlin asks.

Eggsy smiles. "Is there a new single malt to try?"

"Yes. Talisker. It's the only one from the Isle of Skye."

"Then I'll 'ave that one." His accent was smoothing out, but he still has the inflections from his old life. Sometimes he wondered if he'd end up like Chester, so comfortable with the finer things that he forgets where he came from.

They sip by the fire for a moment or two. 

Eggsy says, "I like this 'un. Me favorite's still that Glen Fiddich, but this ain't bad."

Merlin chuckles. "I'll have a new one for you to try next week then."

"Roxy's teaching me about different gins. Bedivere says I need to stop asking for brandy and decide if I prefer Cognac or Armagnac."

Merlin says, "Just tell them you've gone teetotal if you don't want the instruction. You can tell me to bugger off, too, you know."

"Don't want to. You and Roxy are the only two that I don't feel like's deigning to notice me."

"Well, I'd remind you to take that chip off your shoulder, but honestly, I'm not certain you're wrong."

"And truthfully, I like to learn. Reminds me of Harry quoting Hemingway at me, 'There's no nobility in being superior to your fellow man…'"

"'True nobility is being superior to your former self.' He used that one on me when I was younger. The difference was I was pretty sure I was smarter than everyone else in the room." Merlin shrugs. "In fairness, most of the time I was."

Eggsy chuckles and takes a sip of the scotch treasuring the burn, learning the flavor. "What's the music?"

"Modern Jazz Quartet. There's about five of their cds in, and I put it on shuffle."

"I like it. The vibes sound different from what was the name? Got it, Lionel Hampton."

Merlin nods. "You have a good ear. Hampton was more likely to chord, for one thing, but the biggest difference is that Milt Jackson sets the vibration on his instrument to match that of the human voice. It's striking."

"Yeah. So I know you didn't just ask me in here alone for a malt and music lesson."

Merlin says, "No, I didn't." He puts down his glass and pulls a folded paper out of his jacket pocket. "It's from Harry. Because it was sent to my computer, along with letters for me and Chester, I started to read it -- just the very beginning -- before I printed it out."

"When did 'Arry…?"

"On the plane to Kentucky. Galahad was reckless, but, unlike our last Lancelot, he always put his affairs in order before a mission. Just in case."

"Why you just giving me this now?"

"He'd set it for delayed delivery. I didn't get it until the day you left New Zealand." He stands. "I'll leave you to read it."

"No, guv. No need. 'Sides, I may have questions."

Merlin pours himself another scotch and, when Eggsy nods, tops his glass up, too.

_Dear Eggsy,_

_You shouldn't have stolen Arthur's car. That's not how I intended to begin this, but it's the point that keeps sticking in my head, you see. That one act proved to Arthur you weren't Kingsman material. It's why I was so incensed._

_With that off my chest, nothing is irreparable. If you're reading this, I'm dead, so, yes, some things can't be repaired. But there is nothing about the **situation** which can't be fixed. I've sent a letter to Arthur as well. There was a minor grovel in it, and you may need to do a major one, but I think he'll forgive you. If he doesn't, then I've used Merlin as a backup. He has a great deal of autonomy, and, though I shouldn't tell you this, I think you remind him of himself a bit. I know that as much as he liked Roxy, you were his favorite through training, if only because you not only pissed off those three posh twits, you regularly bested them. _

_If Arthur doesn't forgive you, then Merlin is going to train you to be his eventual replacement. We'd already discussed it before the train tracks test, just as he undoubtedly discussed possible alternate assignments for their proposals with Arthur and Percival. Of course Arthur's candidate blotted his copybook so badly that no offer would or could be made. Disloyalty, 'grassing' if you will, is far more serious than a little car theft._

_In short, you would have had a place with Kingsman, if not as my direct peer at the table, then as a handler and eventually as Merlin, who may call me sir, but is far more important to Kingsman than any one agent could ever be._

_Lastly, I want you to know that while my initial impulse to try you out, to propose you as my candidate, was due to the debt I owed your father, you have become a beloved friend. I didn't know your father well. An old friend of mine who knew I was always on the lookout for good candidates suggested him. We got on well and, as you know, I proposed him which took him out of your life._

_Your loyalty to me -- Merlin told me how often you visited while I was in the coma -- your burning interest to learn and to excel, and your genuine thoughtfulness and kindness got under my defenses. You became very dear to me, which is probably why I was so unconscionably angry when you arrived at my house. The biggest regret I have in dying, other than not getting to live another day, is that our friendship will never have the time to develop the richness and depth it could have. I believe we might have become truly close, as I am with very few people._

_Enough sentimentality. It's unbecoming to be maudlin, especially when one runs the types of risks we do. Please forgive me, as I forgive you. Trust Merlin. Apologize to Arthur, even if you have to hold your nose to do so. Be as good a friend to Roxy as Merlin has been to me. Those of us at the table need someone to kick us up the backside when we're not seeing the big picture. Merlin has had a salutary effect on my selfishness and broadened my outlook considerably. You can do the same for Roxy, I believe._

_I should tell you that a gentleman only signs a letter with "Sincerely" or, at a pinch, "Best regards." I think I'll be different today._

_In love and friendship,_

_**Harry** _

When Eggsy looks up, he sees Merlin watching him closely.

Merlin says, "I cried, too. He was a damned idiot sometimes, but he was my best friend for nearly thirty years."

Eggsy nods and takes a sip of his scotch. "He forgave me. I din't disappoint him, well, I did, but he forgave me. How'd he do this? I had his laptop at the house."

"He had a tablet with him. If he was desperate enough, he would have written it on his phone."

"Why the long delay? 'S been more'n three months since, since he left for that fuckin' church."

"We had an agreement. I rarely go into the field, but he had the same charge from me. If he was alive, I'd get him out, no matter how bad he was. If the doctors gave him no hope after three months, I was to pull whatever plugs there were. Had we been able to rescue him, the day these arrived would have been the day he was unplugged."

Eggsy thinks for a moment. "He was in a coma for over three months after that Doctor Arnold exploded."

"The doctors had hope. He hadn't been on the ventilator in over a month at the three month mark, he was recovering."

"I… I'd fallen in love with him." It's a quiet confession.

"I know, lad. I'll not let you read my letter, any more than I'd ask to read yours, but I can say that Harry cared for you very much. It might have been love or become love. I don't know. We'll never know. But a good third of my letter was telling me to look after you."

"He told me to trust you. I do."

"You ran back into a fortress, into a killing ground you'd just escaped, on my word. I know you trust me, Gareth."

"Nah, not between us. On comms, official duties, fine, it's my codename. But if we're sitting and sipping scotch by the fireplace, I'm Eggsy."

"I don't have a name to give you in return. I mean I could tell you my real name, but I haven't let anyone call me that since I started working here. Merlin felt like it fit."

"'S fine."

There's a long beat before Merlin says, "So, Eggsy. My name is Hamish McKnight. Please don't share that around. I know Percival and Bedivere have had a bet on my real name for twenty years. I plan to out stubborn them."

Eggy chuckles. "You got it, Merlin."

The song changes and Merlin smiles. "This is my favorite."

"You ever go hear it live? Jazz, I mean, well, any kind of music really."

"Next time I go to Ronnie Scott's I'll let you know."

"I'd like that." The warmth and the scotch are making him sleepy. "Jet lag." He stands and rests his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

Merlin takes his hand and squeezes it. "Goodnight, my friend."


End file.
